


Baby-watching

by orphan_account



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Babysitting, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos knew that noise.</p><p>Athos was not getting within a hundred leagues of that noise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby-watching

**Author's Note:**

> I should be sorry about this. Maybe. IDK, it was fun.

Athos knew that noise.

Athos was not getting within a hundred leagues of that noise.

But that _noise_ was between him and the door, and thus between him and the pub down the street.

He cautiously leaned his head out and found the source of the noise in Aramis’s arms, being fussed over by Porthos.

“How do you get it to stop making that noise?” D’Artagnan asked, plugging his ears with his fingers and wincing as the baby in question let out a particularly shrill screech. Aramis started to reply and froze mid-sentence, holding the baby out at arms’ reach and pulling a face.

“I don’t know, but it smells _awful_.”

Athos leaned back and debated climbing out the window instead. Some part of him, however, could not let that go on, and he sighed, saying farewell to the idea of waking up with a hangover tomorrow and stepping out.

“It probably messed itself. Babies do that, you know,” he said and Aramis pulled another face. “And no, I’m not changing it. You can. Whose baby is that, anyway?”

“Constance’s. She and her husband—” here, D’Artagnan made a face like he’d just been told it was the spawn of Richelieu and Satan, “—have apparently had a child. D’Artagnan, the fool, agreed to watch the child when they needed to go looking at something or other. But D’Artagnan has about as much skill with children as he does women.”

“Which is still loads better than you,” Porthos muttered and took the baby before Aramis could drop it.

“Does it have a name?” Athos asked, feeling the start of a headache. He considered, for a brief, shining moment, shooting all of them and returning the baby to Madame Bonacieux and her husband. The fantasy was ruined by the fact that, while he’d be free of dealing with Aramis, he’d probably end up in prison. Again.

“No, he doesn’t,” D’Artagnan replied, fingers still in his ears. “Aside from ‘baby Bonacieux’, anyway.”

“Wonderful. Porthos, would you please change him? Before he brings the building down ‘round our ears?”

“I don’t know how. I’ve never dealt with children before,” Porthos replied, holding him out to Athos, who sighed and took him.

“Of course you don’t.”

He should have just climbed out the window.


End file.
